Actual email exchange between two baseball nuts

[Note: This exchange starts at the bottom of the post and works up to the top. Just in case you got confused.]

Me: It's a sickness, but it only affects us, so that's OK. You should read my most recent post "How My Mind Works." It starts with reading an article in a Baseball Digest from 1967. The article mentions Sonny Siebert. So I look up Sonny's stats in the MacMillan Encyclopedia. Then I go to baseball-reference.com to see who the most similar pitchers were. Then I start looking up their stats. Pretty soon it's dark out, I've had 3 glasses of wine, the dishes aren't done and I'm in trouble with the wife. All over Sonny Siebert! I'm in trouble with the old lady because I cheated on her with Sonny frickin Siebert!


Andy: > Yeah, 15 HRs in 1973, not too shabby. The Cubs made a habit of trading
> guys to the Expos who became pretty good: Andre Thornton, Rodney
> Scott, Dave Martinez, Breeden to some extent.
>
> God, why do I know this?
>
Me: He had one monster slugging average year. One more than either of us had in
> > the majors. On the other hand, we've both had some potent story count
> > years...

Andy: Yup, and by my calculation, they hit .233. Hal played a few more years
> >> with the Expos after leaving the Flubs.
> >>
> >> http://www.baseball-reference.com/b/breedha01.shtml
> >>
Me: Dammit! Were they brothers?

Andy: Thanks -- and Hal played first. Danny Breeden wa the catcher.
> >> >>
Me: Ha! I did read that post! It was excellent.
> >> >> >
> >> >> >

How my mind works

This is the sort of stuff that runs through my head. I was thinking about the 1959 season and of course you can't be a Tribe fan without wondering what the hell was up with Tito Francona that year? And then as I'm turning that one over in my brain, I'm thinking, what the hell was up with ex-indian Norm Cash in 1961? And then it turns out, as it always does, that, just like Kuenn and Colavito, Tito and Stormin' Norman have more in common than one would suppose.

In 1959, as The Tribe made its run for the pennant, Tito Francona suddenly became Stan Musial. Singles, doubles, triples, home runs--he ends up hitting .363! Kuenn wins the batting title because Tito didn't have quite enough ABs. So now we all think, shit, we've got the next Stan Musial right here in Cleveland. And of course that idiot Frank "Trader" Lane decides two batting champs on one team would be just the ticket to the Series, and he trades Colavito for Kuenn.

Except that Tito was only Tito, not Stan the Man. Had a few more good years but nothing like 1959.

Norm Cash: Tribe deals him for Steve Demeter in early 1960 before Cash even plays a game for the Tribe. Another great trade by Frank "Trader" Lane. Has a good year in 1960, but in 1961--oh baby! .361 BA, 41 HRs, 132 RBIs, 8 triples, 193 hits, 119 runs--all career bests in what would be a long career. But although Cash is a dominant first baseman in his era, he never approaches the 1961 numbers again. (Of course, those were driven by expansion, unlike Tito's 1959 season, which makes his even more amazing.)

So when the dust settles, 15 years for Tito, 17 for Norman: Career BAs: Tito, .272, Cash, .271. Too weird.

OK, I can sleep now. G'night.

1959: The Year We all got Sucked In

I was born in 1950. I came of age baseballically in 1959, musically in 1963 and got girl crazy in 1966. The music and girl coming of age were well timed. Baseball, not so much.

My father's generation grew up with a Cleveland Indians franchise that was always competitive. From post-WWII through 1959, they got to follow one of the best sets of teams ever assembled outside of New York City. They celebrated two AL pennants and one World Series win in the time period, with plenty of tight races in between. Stars like Bob Fellar, Lou Boudreau, Bob Lemon, Dale Mitchell, jim Hegan, Larry Doby and Minnie Minoso kept them in every game. They had a great G.M. in Bill Veeck to keep them amused when they weren't winning. My parents still talk about going down to League Park (predecessor to Municipal Stadium) just to sit behind Ted Williams in right field so they could taunt him. Those were great days to be a Tribe fan.

Naturally, our parents transmitted this excitement to us. And with the thrilling 1959 race sucking us into big league ball, we gladly joined the ranks of Tribe fans throughout the city. That '59 team was a sweet one, too: a superb pitching staff featuring young studs Mudcat Grant, Gary Bell, Jim Perry and Herb Score (who suspected he would never make a comeback?). Anchoring the youth were vets like Cal McLish and Jack Harshman. The position player lineup was weak at only two positions: third (an aging George Strickland) and second, where Billy Martin was being consumed by his demons. Catching was super solid with Russ Nixon and Dick Brown doing the lefty-righty platoon. Colavito, Minoso and Piersall formed a truly complementary outfield. Vic Power was probably the best first baseman of his era, while SS Woodie Held made up for lack of range in the field with pop in his bat. Tito Francona, a true natural hitter, led a solid bench. He hit .363 and slugged .566, and Jim Baxes slugged .466 in his only true Major League test.

After battling the Chisox furiously in August, the Tribe finally lost the struggle in September and finished five games back. But I was galvanized by the pennant race. There are some games that still play through my head from that season. That was the year we all began to collect Topps Baseball Cards in earnest. I was only allowed to buy one pack per week with my nickel allowance. It was tough to watch Terry Hartman buy four or five packs at a time. He got a quarter a week. On the other hand, my grandmother quickly caught on to my lust for cards. She would look for any occasion to drop 10 packs in my lap, thus purchasing my love for all of eternity.

Our main source of cards was Piersdorff's Drug Store. The wiley proprietor understood that, if we came in with our mothers, we would wheedle and beg until they gave in and bought a pack. And that might lead to some candy being purchased--all feathering the Piersdorff nest. If for some reason Piersdorff was out of cards or we couldn't spare the time to walk the mile or so to get there, we could try Sav-On, the neighborhood grocer. They sometimes carried cards and were at least worth badgering our mothers to just pleeeee-se buy me one pack!

As the season progressed, the urgency to get Score and Colavito and Grant and Bell and Perry and Minnie and Jimmy increased. (I never did get a Woodie Held that year, which really bugged me.) We would try anything, including trying to trick some of the younger kids in the neighborhood to trade us their indians for crap like Mickey Mantle and Duke Snider. I recall one shameful theft attempt of Jamie Roller's cards; I later relented and took them back. Oh, what evil lurks in the hearts of Indians' fans!

In those days, we rarely traded cards in the way some kids did. While some would flip cards to see who got to keep the pair, we traded much more like G.M.s of big league clubs. Even doubles weren't given away; you had to get something in return. I recall Hartman as being an especially shrewd trader, Gary Chilcher as being overly cautious, Dale Crockett an easy mark and my brother--the poor kid was two years younger and just basically clueless.

We didn't stick cards in the spokes of our bike wheels the way a lot of kids did. I always thought those kids were idiots.What, did baseball cards grow on trees, that you could put them in your bike spokes just to make some stupid sputtering noise? Some people just do not understand the value of money.

Although the Tribe would bitterly disappoint my friends and me over the next three decades, their performance didn't dampen our enthusiasm for card collecting. When I went back some years ago and put my collection in order, I found that I had a large number of 1963 Topps cards. So at age 13 i was still an avid collector. But that was it. My collection included almost no 1964 Topps cards. The Beatles not only started a music revolution in 1963, but they also turned our attention from baseball cards to 45 RPM records. My large collection of 45s from that era demonstrates beyond a doubt where my meager funds had been redirected. I still loved the game and lived and (mostly) died by the Tribe's box score. But a new obsession was pushing baseball aside, or at least forcing it to move over. Before long, my life's obsessions would be set: baseball, rock n roll and girls, girls, girls.

Not a bad life, after all is said and done. And now the Tribe is winning again.

A Deadly Pause

Thinking back on it, the Yankees in 1961 sure didn't seem like a team whose foundation was cracking. The team was perfectly positioned to take immediate advantage of expansion. Adding the Angels and Senators to a league that already had a patsy (KC) played right into the Yankees' slugger-filled line-up. The Yanks cranked 240 HRs; amazingly, the Angels were (a distant) second, with 189.

Winning 109 games and four of five in the World Series, the Yankees' management may have decided to take a breather. They abandoned the Stengel / Topping / Weiss strategy of trading with the losers to pick up the pitchers and role players they would need to compensate for a lack of homegrown talent. But that left them with a woefully thin bench to backstop one of the oldest teams in the Majors. Some 14 roster players were 30 or over, and Mantle was physically well past 30. Key players like Ford, Howard, Berra, Skowron, Lopez, Ditmar, Turley and Duren were among the 30-plus crowd. Moreover, the front office clearly considered Mantle, Maris, Ford, Berra, Howard, Kubek, Richardson and Boyer Untouchables.

There wasn't much left to dangle in front of KC, LA and Washington, and expansion had thinned out the "talent" on their rosters anyway.

1962: The Yankees win again, but just manage to edge out Minnesota (by 5). In one of the most amazing expansion stories ever, the two-year-old Angels led by Bill Rigney finished just 10 back. Then the Yanks barely beat the Giants in 7. (Remember Richarson spearing McCovey ninth innning line shot? Oh Willie, we wanted you to get that hit!) And again, the front office stands pat.

Well, not completely. Skowron is traded for Stan Williams, the big Dodger righty. You can't fault the trade. They had to do something. (The Moose would get his revenge in the '63 Series with clutch hits that helped beat the Yanks.) Pepitone, the next Lou Gehrig (I'm not making this up), takes over at first base. Howard, 33, is now the regular catcher. Plays like a 25-year-old. But still ...

1963: Everyone in the infield has a career year: Howard (the MVP), Kubek, Richardson, Pepitone, Boyer. Ford and Bouton have huge years, as do Terry and Downing. But Maris and Mantle are hobbled by injury, Berra gets in only 35 games behind the mask. The bench includes 37-year-old Dale Long and Harry Bright (!). Maris is unhappy, the press says. The press is right.

If the American League is fooled, the Dodgers ain't buying it. They sweep--sweep!--the Yankees. Houk scurries to the front office, leaving the field boss job in 1964 to a completely unprepared Yogi Berra. And yet, they stand pat. No trades of any note.

1964: Still no one (except Stottlemyre) coming up from the farm to help out. Super sub Phil (Harmonica Man) Linz gets into 112 games, playing 2nd, short, third and OF as injuries (esp. Kubek) and age take their toll. Terry, former budding star Bill Stafford and Williams tank, not enough to undermine fine years by Ford, Downing, Bouton and Stottlemyre, but still worrisome. Maris and Mantle rebound (Maris is unhappy, the press reports), but Boyer and Tresh slump, their slippage covered up by another pennant. Comes the Series, and a team that slipped in, a team whose g.m. was fired in August and whose manager was put on notice--this team, the Cardinals, beats the mighty Yankees in 7 games.

1965: The wheels come off. Berra is canned, Keane comes over from the victorious Cardinals to take the reins--and finds an old, injured, burnt out squad in complete disarray. Pepitone is probably doing drugs by then (a first: the Yankees preferred drug was always booze!). He slumps. Kubek--stick a fork in him. At age 28, he's through. Maris barely plays due to "injuries." (He's really unhappy now, we don't need the press to remind us.) Mantle hobbles on and off the field (and bench) and only plays 108 games in the field. Elston Howard, at age 36, catches 95 games but is suddenly acting his age. Bouton's arm goes out on him and he goes 4-15. Guys named Mike Jerewicz, Jim Brenneman, Gil Blanco and Rich Beck are included on the pitching staff. And yet the front office does nothing to help. They let it happen. Did Keane screw Houk's wife in the off season or something? How can this franchise just sit back and watch this mess?

Casey could have told you. He knew nothing was coming up from the farm teams. He knew it took a special relationship between front office and field boss to get the players you needed and then have the guts, the nerve, the balls, to platoon wonderful players like Ellie Howard and Da Moose and Hector Lopez because that was how you won. Casey knew you had to trade a Billy Martin or a Norm Siebern or a Jerry Lumpe or Don Larsen or Tom Morgan to get something of value. And he must have known that, by the time he got the game a) the Yankees had too many Untouchables and b) there were no young players to dangle as trade bait left in the pipeline.

And so the Yankees, to the delight of millions of Yankee haters like myself, would wander in the desert. When they finally traded some of the Untouchables, they'd lost their value. Maris went for Charlie Smith (?); boy, did the Cards get the better end of that deal. Boyer went for Bill Robinson, which would have been a good trade if the Yankees had hung on to Robinson for more than two years. They got Ron Klimkowski for Elston Howard. Ouch! And nothing for Kubek, McDougald and Richardson, who all retired early.

The Yankees would be led out of the desert by an unlikely pair: ex-Clevelander George Steinbrenner and Billy Martin. (And free agency, of course, which automatically gave the Yankees a huge talent advantage over every other team on the planet.) But they would not return to punish and dominate and humiliate until the 1990s, when Steinbrenner finally got it right. And by then, other clubs, including the Indians, were able to regroup and become competitive once again.

When the music finally stopped in the Bronx

What happened to the mighty Yankees between Casey Stengel's dismissal following the World Series loss to the Pirates in 1960 and Johnny Keane's death on Jan. 6, 1967? It was in that period the Yanks went from one of their most devastating seasons ever (1961) to the dismal finishes of 1965 and 1966. Part of the answer, as we have mentioned, can be traced to the failure of the farm system to produce the kinds of players the Yankees were accustomed to bring up from the farm. But two other factors sealed the team's doom: the front office ran out of good players it was willing to trade, and it designated too many aging stars as Untouchables who could not be traded, at least not until it was far too late to get anyone decent in return.

Perhaps the top Yankee prospect to join the team in this period was Mel Stottlemyre. Mel was a true pitching star for New York. But by the time he came up in 1964, the rest of the staff was fading fast. Two other prospects who had passable Major League careers--Joe Pepitone and Tom Tresh--never truly blossomed. Kubek, Richardson and McDougald--the heart of the Yankee infield for many a pennant season--retired before they could be dealt away for new blood. And players like Mantle, Berra, Ellie Howard and Whitey Ford were allowed to ride into the sunset. The once-sly trading Yanks got nothing for this entire group of veteran stars. (Howard was finally dealt away in his final year, but my god, the man was the Yankee's starting catcher at age 37!) And the last major trade made during Stengel's era brought Roger Maris in from KC for budding star Norm Siebern. (His career would oddly mirror Maris's, minus the asterisk.)

But before the collapse, the Yankees enjoyed one last Viagral string of pennants. Of this, we will speak tomorrow.

1960: When the Yankee pipeline went dry

George Weiss, Dan Topping and Casey Stengel formed an amazing trio. Blessed in the late 1940s and early 1950s with a bounty of budding stars signed by Yankee scouts, Weiss and Topping managed to keep the dynasty afloat with astute trades long after the pipeline from the minors had gone dry. Stengel found a way to take his maturing homegrown players and surround them with the spare parts his bosses pried lose from the Athletics and St. Louis Browns/Orioles to create devastating platoons. Their combined understanding of talent papered over the fact that there were no Mantles, Berras, Fords, Kubeks, Skowrons, Richardsons or McDougals on the way up.

1960 was a watershed year for the Yankees. The highlights are known to all. They won the A.L. flag by 8 games but lost the World Series in 7 games to the Pirates in one of the most memorable series ever. Many still argue over which was the most awesome home run in baseball history: Maz's Series-winner or Thompson's flag-winner. Then The Ol' Perfessor got the gate.

I listened to most of the Series on my transistor radio, and was exhiliarated by Maz's home run. That final game was perhaps the most exciting game I've ever watched/listened to. Oh, the sweetness of the Yankees' defeat! That Series made me a Pirates fan for life!

But if you probe deeper into that season, you'll find how Stengel, Weiss and Topping made the whole thing work. Stengel had his homegrown stars: Mantle, Ford, Kubek, Richardson, Ellie Howard, Berra, Blanchard, McDougald and Skowron. The front office, making up for a dearth of Yankee farm hand pitchers, kept him supplied with hurlers like Turley (Baltimore), Terry, Ditmar, Maas, Schantz and Duren (all from KC) to back up Ford in the waning years of Stengel's reign. Trades with KC brought aboard Maris, Hector Lopez and Clete Boyer.

Stengel used these weapons so craftily that it must have seemed to the opposition that he had 40 men on the bench. He had three guys listed as catchers: Berra, Blanchard and Howard. All three played various positions during their Yankee days, depending on who was pitching FOR NY, who was pitching AGAINST NY, who was hot and who was not. Lopez was one of the great subs of all times, and could truly play every position in the field. Skowron was platooned early in his Yankee days, much to his disgust--but he hit over .300 four of those years and .298 a fifth.

Casey knew what he was doing, not just when he made out the lineup card, but in motivating his players as well. His secret, he always insisted, was to unite the team in its hatred of the manager. He constantly disparaged Mantle as a player who never lived up to his potential, and he authorized the trade of his pet player, Billy Martin. That must have sent a message.

Notice that the front office, in those halcyon days, only traded with loser teams. The Yankees did not want to trade a good player to a contender. The best example was the trade that brought Lopez and Terry to NY from KC in May 1959. The Yankees essentially got these two for Jerry Lumpe. While Lumpe went on to have a series of excellent seasons for KC and later Detroit, nothing he could do for the Athletics would budge them from mediocrity. Lopez and Terry were exactly what the Yanks needed at the time.

Other deals weren't even fair. In a huge deal, the Yanks got Clete Boyer, Schantz and Ditmar for basically nobodies. Such deals elicited cries of "Foul!" from fans of other A.L. teams. But you had to admire the end results.

Stengel wasn't happy to be let go after the World Series loss. But maybe he could see what was coming. Instead of Mantle, Ford, Kubek and Richardson coming up from the farm, it was Jesse Gonder, Bill Stafford, Johnny James, Jim Coates and Ken Hunt. They let their one decent prospect go--Deron Johnson--but he wasn't ready yet anyway. No, the pipeline had gone dry, and even the Athletics had decided to stop stripping away all their talent in exchange for Yankee cast-offs. The team would continue to win for a few more years, thanks in part to expansion's addition of two really lousy clubs. But by 1964, the ticker tape parades would be shut down for years. The Ol' Perfesser's reputation as a managerial genius would be untarnished, despite his tenure with the Mets. The Yankees, to the delight of a young Indians fan, would not bubble to the top again until 1976.

Why Clevelanders love it when the Yankees lose

To take up the pen is to take up the sword when the challenge is to write about the New York Yankees. Let me say this: My admiration for individual Yankees is as deep and abiding as is my hatred for the organization. The only Yankee I think I have ever truly disliked is A-Rod, and that has nothing to do with the fact that he's a Yankee. Well, maybe Rickey Henderson. Now there's an asshole. But you get the point. When one team thwarts your dreams year in and year out, when one team seems to have too many advantages, when one team is just so good, well, you wind up hating that team.

Where to begin? I have limited my work here to the period of Rocky Colavito's career: 1956-1968. Within those confines, I will begin, then, at the end. With the tragic death of Johnny Keane in early 1967. For Keane's death, to me, symbolizes the true beginning of the worst 30 years in Yankee history--a period that fans from Cleveland, Detroit, Chicago, Boston and Baltimore would savor. The bullied always relish the downfall of the bully.

Keane's tale lives yet in my mind as Shakespearean in its richness. An aspiring ballplayer who was injured early in his career, Keane turned to managing in the minors for the St. Louis Cardinals. He was good, and when the Cards stumbled in the 1950s, Gussie Busch spotted him as someone who might turn the team around. Taking over in 1961, he boosted the Cards into second place by 1963 and, through a series of flukes, brought home a world championship team one year later. His team benefitted from one of the great late-season collapses of all time, the tanking of Gene Mauch Phillies. The Cards went on to beat the fading Bronx Bombers in the World Series.

And then Keane resigned. And took another job. As manager. Of. the. Yankees.
Oh yeah. Stop the presses! What a story! See, babe, what happened was this: In August, August Busch thought his Cards were not gonna win the title. Nope. So he let it be known that perhaps Mr. Keane ought to be looking around for a new job in 1965. He canned Bing Devine, only one of the finest G.M.s ever, and a bunch of other front office suits. Well, Keane was pissed. But he kept his mouth shut and kept managing. The Cards kept winning, won the Series, and then in one of the finest FUCK YOUS ever in the history of the world, he quit and went over to the dark side.

Woulda been a great story if he'd have taken the fading Yankees and restored them to their former glory. But it was too late. In fact, Keane helped put the dagger in the vampire's heart by knocking them out of the Series. The team Keane inherited, the team he had helped to demoralize, was--well, demoralized. It was old. Players like Bobby Richardson, Tony Kubek, Clete Boyer and Tom Tresh, though still in their late 20s, were old before their time, worn out by the pressures of playing under the New York microscope. The pitching staff had no depth beyond Whitey and Mel. The once-fabled Yankee bench had nuthin'. Mantle limped painfully. Berra was a lousy first-time manager. The club finished sixth. The next year, the club got off to a horrible start, and Keane was gone after 20 games. Less than nine months later, he was dead of a heart attack, a modern MacBeth laid low by wounded pride, the desire for revenge and the wanton lust to be proclaimed king of diamonds. (Not sure what role Mrs. Keane played in his suffering.)

Keane's death robbed us of what might have been. No comeback story for the long-time minor leaguer who finally made it to The Show. Was he a great manager? Or just lucky? I tend to see 1964 pennant as more luck and good timing than talent for the Cards. The number of players who had career years was unsually high. The collapse of the Phils, and the tendency of the other strong teams to knock each other off, allowed the Cards to sneak in. The Yankees were on the verge of implosion. Still, one wonders whether Keane could have returned to prove the Yankees wrong. Instead, we had to follow the many resurrections of Billy Martin.

But Keane's short-lived notoriety serves as a perfect metaphor for the Yankee's downfall. What Keane probably did not know was that the Ol' Perfessor, and the Yankees' front office brain trust, had been keeping the team at the top of the heap for nearly a decade with no help from the farm system. For the story of the brilliance of Casey Stengel, Dan Topping, and George Weiss, you must wait, my friends, for another day.